


It's Bailey's War Now Too

by Selaxes, Thomas_Linquist



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selaxes/pseuds/Selaxes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomas_Linquist/pseuds/Thomas_Linquist
Summary: Zootopia is at war. The Predator Axis is bent on taking the world and twisting it to what its leader believes is the "natural order." The Hopps clan has contributed a number of its own to the fight.Now, after secretly hearing just how much is at stake, another young Hopps is off to do what he can. In his mind, the atrocities are already happening to his younger siblings. Forging ahead, despite the danger, he will do all within his power to keep Zootopia safe for the animals he loves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this alternate universe of Zootopia, the modern heads of the family have been renamed. I tried working around it, but having the names of Bonnie and Stu recur just didn't work. Please accept the necessity of creative license with the movie.

It was one of those wet spring days in Bunnyburrow, the kind that does despaired of, since, once the chores of the day were done, there was simply no way to amuse the scores of kits and youngsters. A small group, five in number, decided that this would be a good time to do a little searching in the storage rooms down in the lowest levels of the burrow. Many a wonderful toy or forgotten book had been found in previous forays into these dark, dusty rooms. One kit or another would invariably haul out something, and one of the older siblings, or a parent would recount how the item had been such a beloved piece of the Hopps family history. Which always begged the question of how it had languished for so long in a forgotten corner.  


After a few hours of rummaging, the bunnies found themselves in a part of the warren that hadn't been upgraded for many octades. Here, the dust was a little thicker, the hinges of the doors squealing in protest. The youngest, Colton, had been tempted to turn around and go back to the library upstairs and see if maybe there might not still be a book that he had not read. Cousin Bailey teased him, so the young grey bunny continued to follow.  


By this time, they had reached a portion of the warren that did not even have proper lighting. Colton was going to take this opportunity to suggest that they all turn around. Bailey, a veteran of numerous raids on the Hopps family stores, had thought ahead, and brought a flashlight, not yet being old enough for one of the cell phones that most of the family carried. (It was a standing tradition that no kit under the age of twelve was permitted to own a phone. They tended to get in the way of chores and studying.) He had turned it on as he put his shoulder to a door that had not been opened in previous forays. It eventually took Bailey, Elizabeth and Brian to force the door open, while Trinity was entrusted with the flashlight.

When the dust finally settled, the kits looked about the room, wondering where to start first. As the beam of light traveled, Elizabeth pointed at a rather largish box. It had once been carefully stained and sealed cedar, but now was as dusty and scratched as the rest of the room's contents.

“Hey, look, this one has your name on it!” She went to the box and, using the rag that she had been using to clean one of the upper rooms as her part of the morning chores, began to wipe away the dust and grime.

In stenciled black paint, the name Bailey Hopps was revealed more plainly. It was followed by a date, rather faded, sometime in 1940, as best it could be reckoned. The last line was a series of numbers, four digits, a dash, and then three more.

“It's definitely not mine. Let's see if we can get this thing open.” Bailey and Brian, brothers from the same litter, started pulling down the crates that were piled on top of the box. Sitting on the last, Bailey reached to the hasp of the container in question, which had no lock, he lifted it with only the smallest squeak of protest from the old steel. With baited breath, he put his fingers under the edge of the lid, and prepared to pull it open.

“What in the name of Serendipity do you think you're doing in here you little imps!”

All of the kits jumped. The lid, which had lifted only the barest fingertip slapped back down with a rather impressive slam.

Leaning on a walking stick in the doorway was the silhouette of Pop-pop. He was peering into the room, the little light from the hall and the flashlight, now on the floor, having dropped out of the startled paw of young Trinity, caught in his eyes, giving them an almost demonic look. One by one the youngsters put their hands behind their back, ears drooping in shame and noses twitching in fright. At his advanced age, the old buck was most often to be found dozing in the overstuffed chair in the suite of rooms on the first lower level of the warren. When he was up and around, it was like he was patrolling the halls, just looking for idle paws or mischief-makers.

Rabbit genealogy is a rather complex thing. Cousins born at the same time were often considered siblings, which made for confusion when discussing relationships with outsiders. Rather than her father, Pop-pop was the eldest living uncle of Bella Hopps, the current matriarch of the Hopps clan. Most warrens in the Savage Times had been led by “queen” does, with the help of her offspring and of her sisters. In the formal tongue, Bella would have been granted the title of “Eldest Mother”, responsible for raising not only her own kits, but all those within her warren.

Pop-pop slowly marched his way into the room, leaning on his cane but still trying to stand straight with all of the dignity he could muster. He looked from one kit to another. They had instinctively fallen into a line, starting with Bailey (the eldest present) and ending with Colton. As the elder's stare bored into them, each squirmed just the tiniest bit.

“Sir, we were just looking through some of the old stuff that's been here since forever. We meant no harm. Then we found this box with Bailey's name on it.” Colton had not managed to last for more than a two-count under the old male's countenance.

“That's not just any box. It belonged to a brave young buck, who risked everything to keep the Hopps family safe.” With no small amount of reverence, Pop-pop walked over to the chest in question. “I haven't seen this for a very long time, Bailey. It's owner was one of my older brothers. You carry his name. How old are you now?”

“Ten, sir.”

With a slight groan, the old buck sat on a small box next to the chest.

“I think it's time you knew about this then. You have a noble name, and some very big footprints to fill. My brother was a hero, no matter how he felt about some of the things he had done after the war was over.”

With a gesture, he gathered the young ones around, and waved young Bailey forward to continue lifting the lid. Once open, the first item was carefully pulled from its hiding place. The black beret was made of felt, without so much as a mote of dust on it. He passed it to the young buck next to him, who passed it on to his younger siblings and cousins. Having seen the care Pop-pop took with the garment, they handled it with a similar caution, each brushing a paw over the soft material. Colton gave it back to the oldster.

“What have they taught you in school about the war against the Predator Axis?”

Bailey was the only one that seemed to understand what he was talking about.

“Not much. It's something that happened a long time ago. The teacher says that we will learn more when we're a little older. Just that between 1938 and 1945, a bunch of predator countries attacked Zootopia, and were going to do bad things to every prey animal.” 

“Hmph, don't care much for your education then.” The old buck put the cap on his lap. “Bad things doesn't begin to describe what the Axis was planning. My oldest brother Virgil and his best friend Ed barely survived with their pelts intact.” He looked back into the old box and pulled out a black and white photo, faded but still quite visible. Two bucks were leaning against a bale of straw in the old barn which still stood several hundred yards from the entrance to the warren. Each was in a uniform, and were carefully trying to hide the scars and disfigurement they had endured only weeks before.

“Bailey Hopps decided that he needed to do something.”

XX

Bailey Hopps looked up with a start, his amber-gold eyes widening as his nose twitched a bit. Had he not been so concerned at being caught his ears might have snapped down along his back instead of perking straight up to detect possible discovery. When the door to his father’s study stayed closed, he clicked the paw held torch back on and returned to his search. It took what subjectively felt like hours before he found the document he wanted, though in reality only a few minutes had passed. When it came to important papers his parents demonstrated that it wasn’t just their fields that were kept in almost immaculate order.

Transferring his find to the paw that held the light, Bailey closed the drawer of the filing cabinet, his teeth grinding together at the sound of wood on wood, his imagination making it far louder than it was in truth, but positive that it was enough to wake his parents. If his mother or father learned of what he was doing there would surely be hell to pay. Once he’d covered the signs that he was in his parents’ files, the young buck moved to the desk, setting the paper on the surface as he tucked the torch between his shoulder and jaw and looked the page over.

For the whole day certain words that Bailey had overheard kept spinning around the inside of his head.

He knew that eavesdropping was a bad habit, but in all fairness he’d already been in the storage shed working on the rings that hung from a rafter attached to one of the roof beams. He still had Animalympic aspirations, even though the war had caused the games that year to be canceled, there was always hope for the next set of Summer Games. Unless the fight with the Axis still raged. Then again, the way things were going, the next Animalympics might be predator only. But he still worked out much like he did at St. Lapinous School for the Arts, his Uncle Victor having gotten him in, until the bombing of Zootopia closed it. For that alone Bailey would have wanted to give the preds in the Axis what for.

Still, his brother Virgil had only inflamed his anger as he paused at the door to the shed, unable to go in, shaking with a fear that was almost palpable until Ed Sward showed up and the whole story of the older Hopps’ came tumbling out. Within minutes Bailey heard the tale of both rabbits as he hid in the loft, tears streaming down his own face at what he listened to.

Words like stammlager, the term for a prison camp, and tierfarm, or animal farm, burned into his brain like a hot brand. He listened with his paw clamped over his muzzle as Virgil talked about the hutch he was locked into without space enough to sit or stand or lay down properly. He fought against the shame for his brother about having to relieve himself through a filthy hole in the floorboards. And when Virgil talked about the black uniformed troopers coming by five or six times a day to force feed him and other prisoners some sort of gruel to fatten them up he felt rage. It explained why Virgil had trouble eating his morning porridge and get a bit panicky and wild-eyed in very tight spaces, a very un-rabbit like fear.

Bailey shuddered when Virgil talked about how the guards would tell him that he would make a fine plate of hasenpfeffer, some sort of roasted rabbit dish and laugh as they poked him to see how fat he was getting.

It was enough so that by the time Ed told his story Bailey lay curled on his side, weeping silently, a knuckle between his teeth to keep them from chattering and from crying aloud.

This was what awaited all of Zootopia if they lost. And the whole of the world...

Then Ed spoke of the re-education camp that he’d seen, the place where preds that stood out against the Axis were taken, and the things that were being done to species traitors. Ed talked of seeing piles of dead pred kits that were part of some sort of experiments on forced selective breeding, their little bodies literally being pitch forked into crematoriums, how predator prisoners were exposed to environmental extremes without clothing or shelter, or were being starved to the point they had to feed on their own dead, and those were just the things that the scarred rabbit had seen from his train car before being taken to Stammlager Tierfarm Zwölf, or Animal Farm Prison Camp Twelve.

By the time they left, Bailey’s horror had began to turn into something else, and when his mother called her numerous children in for supper, Bailey was well in the throes of simmering anger. He looked around the supper tables, at his brothers and sisters, easily transposing their faces on the scenes that he’d heard tell of that day. He saw Belle and Dawn and Rose or Calvin and Gerry being force fed for whatever hasenpfeffer was. He saw Daisy and her kits as slaves, or even Barbara and Judy. Then there was her new husband who would be put into re-education…

When he finally turned in for the night, Bailey knew what he had to do. He listened and waited for his brothers in the same room to drift off to sleep, then waited another hour to be sure. He dressed quickly after slipping out of his bed, and then bundled up a couple of shirts, another pair of trousers and some fresh knickers, tying it all in a small blanket that he wrapped in a slightly larger one. Bailey paused as he opened the door, ears straining as he listened for footsteps outside the room. When that also proved to be empty he padded rapidly to his father’s study.

With his birth papers in paw, Bailey carefully wrote a note of permission before affixing a very convincing facsimile of Stu Hopps’ signature to the note, copied diligently from the older rabbit’s farm ledger. He looked at his work carefully before tucking the letter into the breast pocket of his shirt and then looked about to ensure that there was nothing overt out of place, then set the letter that he wrote to tell his parents where he was going in a place where it wouldn’t be discovered for a day or so and stood.

Tucking the electric torch into his back pocket the young rabbit went to the door and paused, an ear against the wood, but heard nothing and opened it, stepping out and closing up the study and turning to leave.

It took all of his self control not to scream when he found a very sleepy but curious Belle and Dawn looking up at him as they returned from the privy.

“Bailey?” Belle asked. “Whatcha doin’ in dad’s study?” the little doe asked as the lamb with her rubbed at eyes that even without her glasses were a bit large.

“Never you mind, Belle,” he said with a gentle smile as his heart rate returned to something almost normal. “Get on to bed with you two, all right?”

The bunny nodded as Dawn stifled a yawn. Then both gasped as Bailey pulled the two into an almost fierce embrace, the buck feeling a momentary pang. What he was going to do was going to be for them as much as anybody, and as he held them, the lamb having easily integrated into the Hopps household. She might as well have been born in the warren as readily as she fit in with the rabbit family.

“Bailey?” Belle asked in confusion as she heard her older brother sniffle and a slight tremor run through him. “Is something the matter?”

The rabbit shook his head and pulled back enough to smile at the pair. “Nothing, Belle. Get to bed now. Oh, and remember that I love you, okay?”

The little doe nodded, her expression still quizzical, but did as she was told while leading the ewe back to the room they shared with several sisters.

With a sigh Bailey stood and picked up his small bundle. He had a few shillings in his pocket for potential expenses and a short detour the kitchen would give him ample nibbles for the trip. His feet were silent as he made his way to the Hopps’ larder and storage bins and he filled a small cloth sack with all manner of vegetables that could be eaten raw and traveled well. Carrots and a couple of lovely turnips with their white and purple bulbs, a couple of pawfuls of greens from the same, some apples that the Swards had given them and a yam or two would tide him over on his trip, even if it took a couple of days. It was a pity that he wouldn’t be able to take some of the other fruits from the season, though he did snag two perfect peaches to eat on his walk into town.

The moon and stars were out, though the pearly orb was close to the western horizon and wouldn’t provide light for much longer, though once his feet found the lane, the pale dusty track was easily seen, even in the gloom to rabbit eyes that functioned better in daylight. Bailey did turn at one point to look back at the house one last time and felt his throat tighten before turning away and resolutely began walking.

If mammals could leave school at fourteen to work, Bailey saw no reason why he couldn’t join the Army, even though he was only sixteen. Even if there was resistance, he had the note, albeit forged, and his birth documents. He might not be like his brother, or a tank ace like Ed, not even remotely pilot material like Johnny and Judy or a sailor like Danny, but he wanted to help because there was just too much at stake. Even if he wound up as a field cook it would be something, and that was what mattered. Just doing his part to make sure others that could fight had the necessary support.

In spite of the pang of leaving home, Bailey couldn’t help but stand a little taller, his shoulders back and his head high as he felt in his heart that this was the right thing to do.

Virgil walked in from the weather that was starting to turn sour with clouds of leaden grey piling up from the east and wondered if it would be enough to keep the Axis out of the skies of Zootopia. It had been a good morning so far, tinkering on his motorcycle with Maggie who was walking alongside him, her paw in his. He’d felt better after talking about his time in the stammlager with Ed, almost as if a weight had been lifted from both shoulders and heart.

Until he walked into the upper kitchen of the Hopps farmhouse and found his parents distraught and the weight seemed to settle back. He wondered if something else had happened, like the loss of Barty, or possibly worse. Judging from the look on his mother’s face, it was just as bad.

“What’s going on, Mom?”

Bonnie simply let her head fall forward onto her crossed arms and shook with tears while a despondent Stu held a piece of stenographer’s paper to the younger rabbit. With a feeling of dread Virgil took the page and read it twice as the import of the words sank in.

“That stupid, brave, idiotic little git!” Virgil spat under his breath, his fingers tightening on the paw that he held as he turned to look at Maggie. “The little shit’s one of the smartest rabbits out of our family, and he’s done about the stupidest thing possible!”

It was a testament to the moment that neither Bonnie nor Stu called their older son down for his language. Maggie simply peeked down at the paper before gasping and her free paw went to her muzzle. “He ran off? To join the Army? Oh, no…”

Virgil shook his head as he dropped the note on the table. “I’ll head into town and see if I can catch him. I’ll haul him back if I can.”

Stu simply nodded as he tried to console his wife while keeping his own emotions in check.

“You go on ahead,” Maggie said with a partially self conscious nuzzle to the rabbit buck’s cheek fur, the doe still acclimating to being in a relationship where she didn’t have to pretend to be a ‘proper doe’ and could be herself in flannel shirt and dungarees. “I’ll let Ed and Daisy know.”

Virgil nodded, gracing the rabbit with muted brown fur a kiss before running to the barn where his bike was. At least he didn’t have to worry about a stall like had happened the other evening while he and Maggie had been out riding, the carburetor was properly cleaned, the tank and fuel lines had been flushed and cleaned and the filters replaced while there was also a batch of fresh oil in it. It fired up on a single kick and Virgil slipped his old aviator’s goggles down over his eyes as he shot towards the lane. As he turned the back wheel slipped a touch and the rabbit expertly wrestled the machine back on track and twisted the throttle with a vengeance.

The local guard was comprised of a few grey-muzzles; mammals that had served years before in the Great War, and stayed on as defense auxiliaries as part of the Home Guard. It was up to them to ensure potential recruits were sent on to the proper stations to be evaluated. The senior officer of the Bunnyburrow Home Guard was one Captain Clayton Oliver Bracefoot. As an artillery officer in the previous war he considered himself an experienced veteran though the prospect of being too old for service in the present conflict did rankle a bit.

Instead he was relegated to his home town, the only subordinates a few aged reprobates that would have found a difficult time in his company back in the Great War. They were slovenly, mostly pensioners and between the lot of them only the Captain himself had anything remotely resembling a proper firearm and uniform. At least when they drilled each morning he looked professional despite most of his subordinates showing up in their church best and various farm implements or, if they had them, perhaps a shotgun or two.

The morning hadn’t been too trying, and reports on the wireless from ZBC had reports of potential weather rolling in, which Captain Bracefoot thought would be good. Might keep those Axis savages out of the skies. Heavens knew their lads in the air were carrying their fair share. If during the Great War someone had said aeroplanes would be such a vital tool Clayton would have laughed at them. Soldiers and ships were the keys to winning a war, though with what had been going on this past year even the aged mountain hare had to admit that some of these new fangled contraptions had their uses. Though it by no means excused the lack of fighting spirit from some of these boys that he’d been seeing as of late. Then again, the new military was even letting females take over various roles such as flying. What was the world coming to when females were allowed to function in a job that they were obviously unsuited for?

Just as the mountain hare lifted his tea, properly strong, the right amount of milk and sugar, the door to the Home Guard office slammed rudely open, a disheveled rabbit standing in the doorway with a slightly wild eyed expression.

“I beg your pardon!” Clayton Oliver Bracefoot roared indignantly, more upset about the sudden noise almost causing him to slosh tea on his well kept uniform.

The military portion in Virgil Hopps makeup caused him to flinch for a fraction of a second before noting the HG armband. Too many of the older generation of veterans were more than happy to give their opinions on what the most recent generations were doing wrong in facing the Huns. The concept of Blitzkrieg was lost on them or the way that modern mechanized and airborne forces could move rapidly across distances that used to take weeks in a matter of days.

And they were damn quick to point out that, ‘Back in their day…’

“Sorry for the interruption, Captain,” Virgil said as he rode down the urge to haul the stocky mountain hare to his feet and shake him as the direct recruitment officer for the valley. “Did you have a young rabbit come through this morning, a Bailey Hopps?”

The hare set his tea down, the cup clinking sharply on the saucer. Clayton sat up, leaning forward as his muddy brown eyes narrowed. “You’re that Virgil Hopps fellow, aren’t you?” the Home Guard officer inquired with another curl to his lip. “Should think after the way your lot fared at Bullkirk you’d be appreciative of any helping paw you all could get.”

Virgil couldn’t help the surge of rage that took him at those words. His paws balled up so tightly that the joints of his knuckles popped even as the rabbit ground his teeth fighting back the impulse to tell the pompous Home Guard officer that it was a different conflict than the Great War. It wasn’t just conflicting ideologies but a literal struggle against those that were almost religiously bent on subjugating all prey the world over. His nostrils flaring as his nose twitched in anger, Virgil drew in a deep breath, held it and let it out slowly before speaking. As it was, his voice was flat and cold as winter ice.

“All I want to know was if my brother came through,” Virgil said. “Did you send him to the recruitment processing office?”

“Of course I did,” Clayton said as he plucked half a scone out of the wax paper it had been wrapped in. “He and a few other lads left on the first train yesterday morning.” The hare nibbled a little bit of one corner and nodded. “Looked to be in high spirits. If things go well I see them making a good show of it against those ruffians on the continent. Reminds me of some of the mammals in my first unit. Decent, respectable lads, each and everyone. Far from officer material, of course, but good solid mammals. In fact I recall one rabbit, from Lapinmoore I believe, quiet fellow that-“

The sound of the door slamming yanked the Home Guard Captain out of his recollections and he frowned at the retreating rabbit through the glass.

“Rude blaggards, those Hopps. Wouldn’t have made it back in our unit, would they Earburton?” Bracefoot inquired with a petulant tone at the Home Guard rabbit that was his orderly for the day. “Right arrogant gits, don’t you think?”

The elderly buck snorted as he was roused from his doze and automatically reached for the pot of tea mumbling incoherently as he tipped the spout over the Captain’s cup.

“Yes, sir,” Clayton confirmed with a nod. “No discipline whatsoever. No backbone, either. Need some good officers to show them how to act in a proper military manner. Of course those Swards and Clays aren’t much better, but the Hopps.” Clayton picked up his swagger stick and pointed it out the glass of the door where Virgil was mounting his motorcycle. “Not a proper family at all. That one a trouble maker, that one doe of theirs…why I heard that she was gallivanting with a fox. A fox, Earburton! Of all things…” He picked up the freshened tea. “Something about her adopting a lamb or some such instead of finding herself a proper rabbit husband.”

The aged buck muttered something that was once again unintelligible before sitting back down and leaning on one paw, his muddy brown eyes fluttering closed.

“World’s absolutely mad, I tell you, Earburton. And these youngsters…no respect for their elders, eh?”

“Yesterday?” Bonnie Hopps said as she looked at her son, one paw grasping the fingers of her husband where he rested his own on her shoulder. “But he’s not old enough!”

Virgil looked from his parents to Ed who stood with Daisy, a knowing and sad look in his eyes. “They won’t check too hard about his age, mom. The way things are going they’ll take anyone that looks able bodied and won’t think twice about it.”

“But he’s sixteen!” Bonnie wailed while shaking her head.

Virgil slid his paws across the table and took his mother’s, wrapping them with a gentle firmness. “It doesn’t matter. He’s healthy and willing, and he’ll get some preferential treatment for being a volunteer instead of a conscript.” He sighed. “I’ll see who I can talk to, but we don’t even know if he gave his real name. The thing is, there won’t be a lot that we can do.”

XX

Bella Hopps heard the voice coming from an open room down the hall on one of the lowest levels. She had gone to her uncle's suite of rooms to check on him and let him know that supper was on the stove and ask if he would be eating at the main table or from the tray on his own. She crossed the threshold of the door just as he finished speaking.

“There you are. What are you lot doing down here?”

Pop-pop put the photo back into the box along with the black beret, giving it an absent brush. He carefully closed the lid and laid a paw on top of it.

“I was just telling these kits a bit of a story, but it's going to take longer than I thought. Would you get a couple of the older lads to bring this to my room?”

Bella looked at him with a strange quirk to her muzzle, her eyes brimming with a few tears. She brushed her paws on her apron and nodded.

“You kits get on upstairs and wash up for supper. My bones tell me the rain is going to hold all weekend, so you just come to my sitting room after the chores are done tomorrow and I'll tell you more about what you've found.” The old buck slowly rose to his feet and shooed the young bunnies out with his stick.

“Are you sure it's a good idea to tell them about... you know?” Bella looked pointedly at the old footlocker.  


“Those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.” the older rabbit quoted. “Don't worry. I won't give them the really ugly details. I just want them to know how close we could get again, if some have their way.” The papers had been raging about the Night Howler incident for weeks still.

“And what have you told them so far? Do they know just whose past they've uncovered?”

“Just that it was my older brother's.”

“Still lying about your age, Uncle Bailey?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story exists thanks to a number of other authors who have written about Zootopia in time of war. First among these is Selaxes, who set up the whole scenario in the first place. Thanks to; Selaxes, stevegallacci, Tom1380, and winerp who have kept this universe open, and further to Selaxes for inviting me to play in it. I will be checking with them for continuity within the series.
> 
> I am a sporadic author, at the best of times, but with an ongoing saga to keep up with, I'll be doing my best. This might actually get my butt in gear to finish stuff I've started. (I'm also to be found over on FanFiction.net.)
> 
> Characters will seldom be of my own creation, and I will post it in my authors notes when they are not.
> 
> That said, Disney owns the rights to the movie Zootopia and the characters therein. They are used here without permission, and I (nor any other author) receive any financial gain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal disclaimer: for safety's sake
> 
> Disney owns the rights to the movie Zootopia and the characters therein. They are used here without permission, and I (nor any other author) receive any financial gain.
> 
> Again, the root story is “Red Tails and Wilde Skies” written by Selaxes. By all means go back and find it. It will be well worth your time.

Pop-pop's bones proved to be more accurate than the weather network. This was nothing new. Stephen Hopps always double checked with the old buck before he planned out the day's work. When things were really odd in terms of conditions, he would spend hours in the old male's room, seeing what had been done in the past. Climate change didn't enter into how pressure systems affected arthritis and old injuries. When his right shoulder ached in a certain way, Pop-pop would advise Stephen to leave the heavy tractor in the barn and put more paws to work.

As he put down his tea, five young kits poked their collective heads through the open door, with Bailey politely rapping on the old oak frame.

“We've finished our chores, sir. Will you still tell us the story about your brother?”

“I've been waiting for you younguns.” Pop-pop tapped the old footlocker that now sat prominently next to his comfortable armchair. True to her word, Bella had sent two of the older boys down directly after supper. While he put his thoughts together, the old buck had cleaned and polished the wood, somewhat ashamed of himself for burying it for so long. He waved them in, and they arranged themselves on the floor. While they were settling in, the old grey-muzzle pondered back to those days, when fear ruled the skies and seas around Bunnyburrow. How much should he say? What did they need to know now, that would make them understand what the past meant to the troubles of today?

Just about every young animal in the burrow was at least somewhat in awe and fear of Pop-pop. He was known to be quite the crank, not at all fond of the casual attitude that mammals had toward their elders these days. Given any opportunity, he would slap the earbuds out of a passing bunny and tell him or her that they needed to pay attention to what was going on in the here and now. “Never a thought on where you are, what you're doing!” (He had stolen the line from a movie that he had taken his own kits to see, a long time ago.)

“I have to tell you, this is a story of action, cruelty, heroes, traps, escapes and...” His eyes glazed over for a moment. “love.”

There was a collective “Ewwww!” from his audience.

The senior gave his head a fierce shake. “And she always said we bunnies were the emotional ones.”

“She, Pop-pop?” Elizabeth asked in her quiet way. She was as game as any of her 275 siblings for an adventure, but she rarely spoke. On the other paw, she was also quick to see and hear things that her contemporaries often missed. Sometimes, it was like she had a sixth sense, able to see what was coming before anyone else. Three floors down, in the dormitory she shared with a full dozen of her sisters, she could hear rain falling as surely as if she were out on the veranda out front.

“I'll get to that, young lady.” Pop-pop came out of his reverie. “It's a part of the story I'm going to tell you.” He looked through the open door of his bedroom, to a small silver frame that sat on his bedside table. It was at an angle that didn't allow anyone currently in the sitting room to see it.

“But let's put this story in its right place. I know you are young, and we tend to keep things from you 'for your own good', not that I agree with the notion. Probably what let The War go on as long as it did.” Reaching to the tray that sat on the table next to him, Pop-pop picked up the Zootopia Herald, which he had just finished reading with his breakfast. The front page was emblazoned with a story of the unrest that still gripped The Great City even weeks after The Incidents had stopped.

“A while ago, some animal that should have known better decided that predators and prey were not meant to work and live together. She decided that she was going to 'fix' things. Put the predators in their place.” With a disgusted grunt he threw the paper into the recycling bin. “That's what The War was supposed to prevent. That's why I'm telling you about Bailey Hopps.” On a bureau across the room, next to a positively ancient radio, was a picture of a young doe, she was dressed in a uniform of the ZPD. It was clipped out of an older edition of the Herald, and showed her pushing two animals, a pig and a cheetah, apart in the middle of a riot. 

“The Hopps family has been in this since the beginning. At one time, it was considered a curse at worst, an embarrassment at best. Now we don't even talk about it, as I see from the lack of attention your history lessons pay to what happened.” He looked at the framed clipping. It was a sad reminder about having to relearn.

“As bad as things are, at least animals are finally starting to see the light, even if it has to be aimed right into their eyes.”

XX

Bailey had made it into town early the next morning. The shops were only just opening up, the proprietors sweeping off the cobbled walks out front, or placing out some of the wares that were meant to entice shoppers in. The produce stalls were looking a little bare yet, the local farmers just finishing up the chores around their homesteads and cleaning themselves up before heading into town with deliveries. Many times he had accompanied his father on just such trips, still aching from loading the old wagon and hitching it up to the new tractor.

In the earlier years of his recollection, there had been hired horses that had pulled the loads, or maybe a donkey or two. It wasn't that long ago that mechanization had allowed the equines to put their backs and minds to less unctuous labors. Some of the locals still dug shoes forged on the Clay farm into the soil pulling plows and wagons with creaky old wheels on the less prosperous farms.

Looking at the selection in front of the market, Bailey realized that a lot of what was being sold now was seconds. Most goods went directly to the train yard, to be shipped into the city. The War Ags pushed for greater and greater production in Bunnyburrow. Every parcel of land that could possibly be tilled was in use. Stu grumbled at the necessity of planting more potatoes than greens, but when Virgil had left, he had put his best foot forward and started tearing up a couple of the fields that had been lying fallow. His mother's beloved flower beds had been pulled up by the younger kits and given over to what was needed in the warren in what the paper so patriotically called “Victory Gardens”.

With a wince, Bailey thought about what his actions, so early in the spring, were going to mean to the family. Every set of paws was required to keep the acreage producing what were still deemed the best crops in the county. Those paw weren't going to be of much help if the Axis managed to land on this side of the channel though, he reasoned. It might mean some of the kits would have to grow up a little faster, but everyone had to pay some price with so much at stake.

The Greys, a family of red foxes, had grudgingly given up much of the land they held, not being as bound to the soil as the lapin neighbors that outnumbered them by such a huge margin. Still, they were producing poultry and eggs as best they could. It wasn't a very tasteful occupation in the county, but there were predators fighting against their own kind, and they needed the protein in their diets. Old man Grey still snarled at the War AG for the district, an aging hedgehog who stared at every aspect of agricultural activity with an air of dissatisfaction.

Bailey sat his bundle of belongings on the bench outside the storefront that currently housed the local recruiting office. It was still closed up tightly, but a few lads, most older than himself by a couple of years, were waiting with varying degrees of patience and anxiety. It would appear that he show put on by Edward “Lucky Buck” Sward had fueled the pride of quite a few of them. They had dreams of glory and vengeance against the Axis in their heads. He looked at them as he pulled his last peach from his pocket and began nibbling at it. Did even one of them realize what was really at stake, and the price they might be asked to pay?

Finally, an elderly old buck in a uniform from the last war arrived and unlocked the door. This was it, once Bailey Hopps went through that door, there was no turning back. Chucking the peach pit into a nearby waste can, actually, a compost bucket, (In these days of scarcity, nothing could be casually discarded.) he picked his bundle up again and followed the rest of the group in. The male in charge, a Home Guard Captain by the name of Bracefoot ordered them to get in line.

“You can just drop that bundle there by the door, boy.” the Captain told Bailey. He looked him up and down. “Well, at least one of you seems to have put some thought into coming ready to travel.”

As he was dropping his load, Bailey noticed a sign by one of the desks in the room. “It is a crime punishable with prison to falsify enlistment documents.” Thinking of the forged letter of permission in the pocket of his jacket, he gulped nervously, but did not falter for a moment. He did as instructed and returned to his place in line. Now was not the time to lose his nerve, that had passed when he entered the office. 

The Captain told them that they were to “stay in formation” until his staff arrived and then processing would begin. After some few minutes, a few of the bucks started to slouch and fidget, getting restless. Bailey stood stiff as a board, scared out of his mind about what he was about to do, but not willing to let it show. When the fidgeting turned to shuffling and muttering, Bracefoot turned from the small stove where he had been starting the coal to heat water for tea.

“I told you to stay in formation! What way is this for soldiers to be acting?” With an imperious look on his face he glared at the motley line. The lads just stared at him slack jawed. They hadn't even signed on and they were already being ordered about? Bailey tried to pull himself even straighter, if such had been possible. His ears quivered and his whiskers arched forward. He'd watched Virgil ever since he'd come home. Whenever an elder addressed him, he had come to attention out of habit. Some of that had rubbed off. It was a fear reflex at that moment for Bailey. He had an image of his mother coming up behind him with the biggest of her wooden spoons, ready to rap him on the knuckles for some infraction.

“No respect for your elders the lot of you!” The old buck ranted and rumbled for several minutes. No, recruits just weren't what they were back in his day. Do as your told and don't ask why, that's the way things were supposed to be. He stomped up and down the line, poking a finger in the nose of each present. At the rate he was going, the inner lining of his ears would soon be as red as the coals that now glowed in the potbellied stove and the kettle that was threatening to boil dry.

They were saved from further lecturing by the sound of the door being opened. Several members of the Home Guard entered. Only one, a buck nearly as old Bracefoot, was wearing a proper uniform. It too was a relic of The Great War, and fit only by the grace of a bunny slimming with age. The rest were dressed in decent enough shirts with arm bands declaring their membership in the Guard. Their Captain was the only one who carried a proper weapon, an old Webley service revolver. Bailey was willing to bet the ammunition was the same age.

Before the door could close behind the last of them, a rather small animal pushed his way in and got into line next to Bailey. The gopher was breathing heavily and carried a canvas pack on his back. He immediately adopted the posture of the rabbit next to him, drawing himself to his full height and pulling back his shoulders. His fur was a darker brown than even most of his kind tended toward, and his eyes, while bright and shiny, were almost so dark that you couldn't tell where the irises ended and the pupils began. He wore a clean yet uniformly dingy cotton shirt. His trousers, just a little short in the leg, were stained about the knees, though still presentable. His braces, crossed over his back to accommodate a short torso, were newer.

All of this Bailey really only saw later, as his attention was focused sharply on the old buck who was acknowledging the arrival of his unit, and complaining still about the questionable worth of the youngsters Bunnyburrow was producing these days.  


Finally, once the tea had actually been made and the Guard settled to their various desks, the Captain turned again to the lads.

“Alright, then. Let's get you lot sorted out. Anyone who is here with conscription papers will form a line before Lieutenant Earburton here. Those of you who had the spine to come of their own volition will line up at my desk here.” The buck walked around his desk with his cup of tea and shuffled some papers as he sat down and took a sip, blowing over the rim. He didn't look up for some moments. When he did, there were only three animals standing before him. A young buck, a gopher and a porcupine. 

“What, only three, out of ten of you?” He slammed the papers down on the work surface. “This explains a lot.” he bellowed with a glare at the other seven.  


He pulled out three sheets from a stack of pages in a bin on his right. “Alright, just sign here, date it, and step aside.”

“Don't you need our birth certificates or anything, sir?” Bailey reached for the papers that were neatly folded in the pocket of his jacket.

“Serendipity, you are an eager one. No, we just take your names here for our records. The paper you sign just says that you are willing to serve at His Majesty's pleasure, and that you will swear your oath if you are accepted. From here you get on the first train to Swinedon. There they'll give you the look-over and see if you're fit.” He glanced up and down the bunny in front of him. “Farm lad, right? Well, you'd have to have a permission letter from your father or employer then. Farming is considered an essential occupation (And rightly so, I might add!) and you need an exemption to join up.” He took the paper that Bailey signed and pressed a stamp onto it. He waved the buck away and pawed the pen over to the gopher.

Bailey knew that there was a daily train out that would arrive in just over an hour. He took a seat on the bench that looked out over the main street of Bunnyburrow. It hadn't occurred to him that there was more involved in serving then just signing up. How stupid of him. Virgil had gone through the process. He should have paid attention. It was all well and good to run off and join the army, but there was no getting around his responsibility to his family. After the enlistment papers, the physicals and any other paperwork, he would have to wait until he got the call to report for actual training. He didn't have the means to keep himself in Swinedon until then.

On the other paw, once he was signed up properly, short of dragging him back, his parents would have to accept his choice. He'd given himself a good day's head start before he would actually need to stand before his father. Then he would just have to hold himself as firm as he could. Maybe by that point he'd have found an argument that would hold water with the family.

“What's so interesting about the post office then?”

The voice startled the young buck back to the present. He looked to the speaker to find himself looking at a gopher a little older than himself. There was something familiar about the tough young male, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

“I didn't really think this through. I really need to serve, but my folks are gonna have a fit. If we have to wait for call-up papers, they might just make me stay until I'm actually eighteen. Even then, it'll be a tough sell with my mother.” Virgil had only just made it back from across the channel alive, and now Judy was flying. Bonnie was not one to cut the apron strings if she could help it. Even Johnny was still a worry, estranged as he was from the rest of the clan.

“Sorry, forgot my manners. Bailey... Bailey Hopps.” He stuck out a paw, which the gopher took into his own rough one.

“Albert Baker. My mates call me Bertie. I thought I recognized you. I got out of school just a couple years after you started at St. Lapinous. Went to work in the mines when the family funds dried up. I was getting set up to study architecture.” Albert shook his head with a wince. “Big change picking at coal seams after drafting in bright classrooms.”

The two males turned their attention out onto the streets. Shortly, there was the sound of a tractor from down the road that lead to the Hopps farm.

“Oh crackers, I'm in for it!” Bailey put his ears down and turned away from the window.  


“What's the matter?” Albert hadn't heard the tractor yet, not having the lapin sense of hearing. His was a somewhat quieter world.

“My father is bringing the crops into town. If he happens to look this way, he'll drag me out, no matter how it looks.” He slouched still further, trying to hide his relatively long, lean stature. Years of gymnastics had made him a rather distinctive figure from the rest of his kin.

Fortunately for Bailey, Stu Hopps was far more interested in the way the wagon was following the machine. The bunny that had hitched it up hadn't been nearly as diligent as the wayward buck that was trying so carefully not to be seen. It had rattled the entire trip in from the farm, threatening every few minutes to completely decouple from the tractor. If anything spilled or was spoiled, there'd be a trip out to the wood shed for certain. Where in the name of all things rabbit had his son gotten to that he was now later getting the goods to the market stall than was proper?

XX

“Why didn't anyone notice Bailey was gone?”

“Beg your pardon?” Pop-pop came back from the part of the past that he'd immersed himself in. The old buck had almost forgotten that he had an audience.

“Why didn't anyone notice that Bailey was gone?” Trinity repeated herself.

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Two hundred and seventy-five.” Trinity stated proudly. She knew that the Hopps clan was one of the largest in the tri-burrows. In fact, it was one of the three which gave the area its name.

“Do you know where every one of them is at all times?”

“Gosh, no sir. That would be... Oh, I see!” Comprehension overtook the young does face as she realized just how easy it was to hide in the crowd that lived in the warren, and how long it would actually take to realize if someone was missing.

“Exactly. Bailey knew that there were paws enough that the work would get done. Everyone would just assume that he was off doing another chore.” Pop-pop looked around at the kits before him. “That's why we like you young ones to watch out for each other, work as a team. It keeps you safe.”

He looked back into time again, and remembered his team, his surrogate family those first tentative days.

XX

It took some time, but eventually Stu had passed the Home Guard office, and Bailey dared to turn around again.

One by one each of the young lads in the room had signed the necessary form, and taken seats. The porcupine that had volunteered like Albert and Bailey sat at the end of the bench. He was giving Albert a fair bit of space, not wanting to accidentally bristle his orderly, but very sharp spines. He'd introduced himself as Leonard Crowly. He was older than either the buck or the gopher, being nearly twenty-five. He was dressed in his second best suit, somewhat older, but still in good shape. He was a typesetter down at Hayworth's print shop a few blocks down.

It hadn't been quite as simple for the conscripted mammals, mostly bucks from the area who didn't have occupations exempting them from service. They had been required to sign a second document swearing to appear when called or have warrants sworn out for their arrest and return to Swinedon for charges of desertion.

“I don't mean to be nosy,” Leonard said, “but I heard you say that you didn't want to come back to wait for your call-up?”

“I think that might be easier on my relations with my kin.” Bailey admitted ruefully. “My parents are still getting used to the idea that my brother Virgil is going to get back into this scrum, and I don't know that they won't put up a fight if I stick to my guns.”

“I think I can help you out. I have family that I'm going to stay with and give their address for my orders. It might be a little tight, but I'm sure they would be more than willing to take you in for the short term, at least until the next training group starts up.”

“I can't afford to give them anything for room and board right now. Maybe I can pick up some work when we get to Swinedon...”

“Burrow under that hedge when we get to it, Bailey.” The male held out his right paw, as Bailey had done with Albert. It had just the faintest trace of black ink on the tips of the claws. “I'm sure we can work something out with my uncle.” He pulled a small paper packet out of a pocket and shook out three willow sticks, offering one to each of his new companions. They sat in a comfortable silence, save the sound of sharp teeth chewing.

The sticks had been seasoned in a brine solution before being air dried. Most mammals with incisors that continually grew usually kept a pack of sticks handy to gnaw on. This kept the teeth short enough to be comfortable and make conversation intelligible. Soaking in brine gave them a salty flavor, and added minerals that were a dietary necessity for many. Some larger animals, like bovines and equines carried salt cubes that they would lick at on occasion. Evolution hadn't touched some of the necessities of many species.

Some minutes later, an old goat, a local by the name of Hodges cleared his throat and called out to the young males. “The train to Swinedon is due in shortly. Fall in and follow me down to the station. Any of you conscripts get a mind to wander off and I'll lay on you with my stick!” He went to the door as the animals got into line. Bailey and his new friends grouped together, with Albert lending a paw to pick up the awkward bundle that the buck had put together the previous night.

Unfortunately for Bailey, the route to the station went right past where Stu and a couple of the older bucks were unloading the wagon near the lines. Not daring to get out of step and bring down the ire of the goat leading the group, he hefted the blankets to his right shoulder and let his ears drop. If one of them should look his way, his face at least would be out of view. He'd be just another bunny off to do his duty. His clothes were common enough in appearance that a quick look would not give away his identity. Bertie helped out by shouldering his own pack the same way, so that the change would not seem out of place.

Hodges led his charges to the ticket window and confirmed that the next train was on schedule. There had been some damage to the lines in recent bombing attacks. Mostly just a nuisance, with repair crews roaming up and down the rails at all times. Military travel had priority over anything else, so there was usually a carriage reserved for recruits being sent to the training camps or personnel being moved from one station to another. The train gave a whistle as it approached the level crossing down the way, and the brakes screeched on the big iron wheels as it slowed down.

Bailey got aboard as rapidly as he could. He couldn't risk the chance of being seen. He almost stumbled when his bundle put him off balance, but Leonard threw out a paw and steadied him from behind.

“Thanks, that was a close one. Be a laugh on me to go through all of this and show up with a broken ankle, now wouldn't it?”

“That's why it pays to work together. You, me and Albert stick together and we should be just fine.”

XX

Pop-pop sat up a little straighter in his chair. His eyes were just a little misty, having recounted the first meeting with friends now long gone. There weren't many left of that generation. So few animals left who really understood what they had gone through, the things they had seen and what they had been forced to do in the name of freedom. 

When he looked down around his feet, he saw the young kits were still paying rapt attention, either sitting on their haunches or lying on their stomachs with chins resting on paws.

“It may have been one of the worst times for Bunnyburrow and Zootopia, even the whole world, but you see, good could still come out of it. Bailey made friends that day that would be with him his whole life. Even as they got old and moved on after the war, they always felt like they had brothers out there.” Pop-pop looked at the recycling bin he had thrown the Herald into earlier.

“You see, even animals that aren't 'our own kind' are still family. Predator, prey, large or small, we each have something to offer in the name of kindness and kinship.”

Stephen Hopps knocked on the door to the sitting room. He was filthy from doing those chores about the family holdings that couldn't be put off for something as trivial as rain and wind.

“Hey, Pop-pop, just wanted to let you know that you were right. That weir down in the lower fifth plot was just about ready to wash out.”

“Never argue with arthritis, young buck!” 

The kits all jumped up and went over to Stephen.

“I'll go see if the kettle is on for a hot cup of tea, Dad.” Bailey ducked out of the door and sprinted down to the kitchen.

“Brian and I will take Trinity and Colton down and get them ready for supper.” Elizabeth took the younger doe by the paw while her brother took Colton with him to the boys dormitory two floors down.

“Get 'em working together from the start.” Pop-pop exclaimed.

“And together they'll see themselves through anything.” Stephen replied, turning and wandering down the hall in search of a hot shower and a change of clothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really to say here except that I hope that I am keeping true to the feel that Selaxes intended when he wrote the original chapter in which Bailey decided to take up the fight. I take it very seriously when another author entrusts me with a story line that they have created. 
> 
> He did ask that I change the names of the current heads of the Hopps household. In this alternate universe, it seems a bit confusing to have another Stu and Bonnie. Therefore, in this continuity, they are Stephen and Bella Hopps. Sorry for any confusion this may cause the readers. I had considered explaining that names would be handed down, generation to generation, but that would still leave questions.
> 
> A quick note on the War Ags. The need to supply the armed forces and feed a nation under siege were great. As a result, the War Agricultural Executive Committee set up sixty-one districts that they would manage, ensuring peak efficiency. Every scrap of land had to be used wisely and to its best potential. Representatives of the committee, commonly referred to as the War Ags, went from farm to farm and graded them. If a sufficiently low grade was given, the land could actually be taken by the government or handed over to new management, with the owners relegated to the status of hired help.
> 
> This left many a farmer highly irritated, to say the least. I picture the Greys as being some of those that didn't make the cut. A lot of Gideon's behavior in the movie could be seen as passed down frustration and self doubt resulting from having most of their land appropriated.
> 
> You will have noted a change in the title. Sorry to confuse you all. There were a number of working titles, starting with “Bailey and his Bullets.” This would only become sensible later as the story spun on. This seems to fit better, since our young buck stole off to make his contribution, to fend off the threat to his very family.
> 
> Lastly, Pop-pop seems quite out of character here, doesn't he? We are all familiar with the outburst about foxes being red because they were made by the devil. In the version of the movie that I have on DVD, the character and his line were left on the cutting room floor and only appeared in the out takes. Along with a much loved scene in which Judy returns to Precinct One only to have a larger vehicle park directly over her. It's a shame such comedy gold gets relegated to the special features section of a disc.


	3. Chapter 3

The rain had finally let up on Monday, which was a blessing. The youngsters were a pawfull when getting ready for school at the best of times. Throw in a search for umbrellas and raincoats and at least a half dozen would be late for the large bus that took them into town. As it was, the chores that had to be done before they left sometimes had the older ones rushing.

The warren was rather quiet, in the afternoon, and Pop-pop decided that a quick stroll around the yard and the sheds was in order. The doctor had given him the long face a while back, and told him he needed to exercise more. He did have to admit that stretching out the old sinews did feel good. His minor aches and pains seemed to disappear with a good walk and some fresh air. Sure, he wouldn't be doing any of the old routines from his youth out in the shed, but he felt spry enough.

As he was strolling, he heard the sound of axes thumping into wood out behind the barn used for splitting and storing the supply for the multiple hearths in the burrow. Central heating and cooling had been installed octades ago, but every now and then, as the season changed from winter to spring and summer to autumn, it was still easier and cozier to light a couple of logs in the sitting room fireplaces. The one in his rooms was a favorite place to settle in with a good book, or to talk about the ever expanding Hopps holdings with Stephen and Bella.

Rounding a corner, he saw a few of the older lads and does splitting the seasoned logs into stove sized pieces for the cords that were stacked under cover in the barn itself. One of the girls was heaving the ax with a practiced paw, the sharp edge cleaving the log into two in one stroke. A thin young buck grabbed one of the halves and placed it on the block as she raised the tool again, and brought it down. There was never a break in the rhythm as they worked together. The thuds were even and constant. The buck would put a fresh log in place after clearing away what had been chopped.

All of the bunnies in the chopping yard were working hard, but they all had smiles on their muzzles. Physical work was becoming an outmoded concept in a lot of places, but the Hopps farm was not one of them. His father, Stu, had always said that good, honest labor was important to keep the body and mind clean and ready for what might be asked of them. Besides, nothing beat the feeling of accomplishment with a task completed. This group talked while they did what some considered an awful chore. There was some good-natured competition and mutual encouragement going on as well.

Off to one side, up against the barn wall, there was an old log face with a faded target painted on it. This was where the real competition took place, as bunnies for generations had thrown axes and hatchets in a bid to hit the small red circle in the center most often. Pop-pop himself had been a reigning champion, as a boy. The old log face was deeply gouged, and he could remember a lot of those tosses.

Just then, Bella Hopps came around the other corner of the building, and shouted that it was time for a rest and some tea. One of the bucks stepped up to the line of rocks that was the standing point for challenges. He grasped his ax in both hands, cocked an eye at the target and threw. With a deep thud, the head buried itself in the second ring out from the bulls-eye. His sister, who had been working so well with the skinny young buck, took her ax and stepped to the line. She coolly looked at her target, and breathed in and out slowly for a moment. Squaring herself to the block, she raised the ax above her head, and with both eyes fixed on the coin sized red dot, swung. The handle quivered and the blade was deeply embedded directly in the center.

With that, the group cheered and trouped in for tea, after carefully putting their tools away. They would come back later and stack the split logs.

When they were gone, Pop-pop walked into the shed. He had been careful not to be seen outside, not wanting to interrupt the youngsters having fun at work. He picked out a hatchet from the large selection on the pegs. He went outside and took his stance on the line. He felt the weight in his right paw. It was comfortable, the grip was well worn in just that proper way. Like the doe, he considered his aim carefully breathing slowly and evenly. Both eyes bored into the target. He could almost see the concentric growth rings. On his last inhale, he raised the hatchet over his shoulder.

XX

The train ride to Swinedon had taken the best part of three hours, time which passed pleasantly enough. Bertie had a pack of cards in his pack, and so the three new friends whiled away the time with hands of gin rummy. Bailey had pulled out some of the edibles he had taken from the pantry the previous night, and shared them around. After his long night, he decided that a nap was in order, so he curled up on the rear facing seat of their compartment and drifted off to the sounds of the wheels on the rails and conversation going on around him.

It was testament to his fatigue that he slept through every single stop and whistle until the train reached the station in Swinedon. Len gently shook his left shoulder, and the young buck shrugged down the blanket that he had never noticed being thrown over him.

“We're here, Bailey. Better get yourself straightened out a bit before we get out.” The porcupine pawed him a comb.

With a yawn, Bailey took the comb and stretched before working it through his fur. He was still shedding his tawny winter coat, the shorter, darker fur coming in beneath. His mother used to say that he was two bunnies at the extreme ends of the year. For his part, he didn't really see it, when looking in the mirror while grooming himself. A couple of the does he knew from school, one of the Swards in particular, had told him the same thing though. Virgil had once teased him when Abigail had commented on it at the Finding Festival a couple of weeks back. She had batted her eyelashes at him and offered a little grooming time as the night had been winding down and young bucks and does had begun pairing off. He rather liked Abbie, and had gone off with her to his favorite shed. They had run their claws and teeth through each others fur, exchanging shy kisses, but that was the extent of any intimacy.

Pulling the bundle together, Bailey and his companions disembarked from the train and looked about the platform. A large deer stag in the uniform of an army Sergeant was waiting next to a sign indicating where the army enlistees were to gather for transport to the base on the edge of the city itself. At the other stops along the way, another twenty-four or so animals had joined the group from Bunnyburrow. Most appeared to be perhaps twenty years old. They were queued up into two ranks, and marched to a large truck that was waiting at the end of the platform.

Leonard was once again sitting a little apart from the other males on the bench in the back of the vehicle, keeping his spines to himself. Bailey shifted a little closer, not being too worried, since the stout shirt and coat seemed more than able to contain the barbs. 

“So where about does your family live? Are they right here in the city?”

“Actually, they live just outside, a short way from the training camp. My uncle said that once we were done at the enlistment offices, I was to call him out at the house and either he or one of the family would pick me up.” The porcupine looked out over the tailgate. “If we're lucky, maybe we could hitch a ride on one of these and save him the trip.”

“You sure they won't mind you inviting me to stay? I don't want to put them out. Times are hard enough with the war and all.” Bailey had always been self reliant, for the most part. Even in a large family, everyone had to pull their weight. Especially on a farm. From the time a kit could hold a tool or dish cloth, he or she was put to work, mostly to keep them out of trouble. The household was divided into work sections and set to tasks by the number, rotating from the gardens, to the laundry and kitchen. At breakfast each morning, Bonnie would rise from her place at the head table and call out the work schedule in her loudest, clearest voice.

“I'm sure it won't be a problem. My older cousins moved out of the house long ago. At worst we might have to trade off using an old camp cot in the room.”

“All the same, I'll ask around about jobs when we're here in town. I'm pretty useful with my paws.”

The truck pulled onto the base. As it drove to the main building, animals in uniforms were running well beaten paths, calling out cadence and being bellowed at by their drill instructors. At tables outside of Quonset huts, others were disassembling rifles and putting them back together while being timed. At a tower near the assembly area, young males jumped and rolled with complete packs on their backs, preparing for possibly being dropped behind enemy lines from gliders or troop planes.

When the truck came to a stop, Leonard and Bertie, who were sitting at the tailgate, pulled the pins and dropped it. Without being told, they hopped down and lined up, with Bailey right alongside them. The majority of the mammals automatically followed their example. Others milled around and generally got in the way.

The Sergeant clambered down from the cab and took note of what was going on.

“All right, lads, get it together.” He waited until everyone had settled in. “In that door. Grab a clipboard and pen and fill out the forms. When you're done, I'll collect them and we'll get you all processed.” 

They climbed the steps and went through the large double doors. The forms had the standard list of questions about age, place of birth and occupation. There was a list of common ailments and conditions that might prevent an animal from serving. Having always been healthy, Bailey barely glanced at them. He hesitated before listing his age, but decided that honesty was probably his best bet, given the birth certificate in his pocket. If they decided not to take him, he would just go to another office and claim he had lost it, saying that he was twenty. Being tall and rather muscular for his age, he might just pull it off.

The Sergeant collected the completed forms and instructed everyone to take one of the hundred or so chairs in the large hall. There were already a number of males there already, having come in on earlier trains. One by one they were called by name and followed the doctors into examination cubicles separated by screens. When he heard the shout of “Hopps, Bailey” from down the row, he jumped to his feet and followed the young nurse and doctor into the cubicle, stripping down as ordered. The nurse, a rather pretty ewe, took his blood pressure. She rather looked like he suspected Dawn would in a few years. The doctor, an older badger with thick glasses listened carefully to his lungs and heart.

Declaring Bailey fully fit to serve, the doctor stamped his papers and handed them to him.

“Hold onto this copy and bring it with you when you get called up. See the serial number? That's you. Memorize it. Anybody asks who you are from now on, that's what you tell them, son.” He was shown out by the nurse, who then called for the next mammal.

Bailey looked at the papers. Next to his name were the numbers 1121-599. He pocketed the documents and flung his bundle on his back. Bertie was already waiting by the doors and waved him over. 

“Len just got called in for the poke and prod. I'm sure he'll be done in just a couple minutes. Doc's gonna have fun getting the stethoscope on his back to listen to his lungs.” Just then there was a bit of yelp from a booth about halfway down the line. The buck and gopher just looked at each other. Standing joke was that, if nothing else, porcupines were always defensively armed. A skunk in a lab coat walked out shaking his paw. It wasn't actively bleeding or anything, and he looked more startled than upset. He shook it off and returned to his job. 

“As long as I've got a few minutes, I think I'll see if I can find a local that might know of any place that might be willing to hire me for a short bit.” Bailey wandered around the room for a time, but most of the animals were recruits that had been brought in by rail. The few locals were sympathetic to his situation, but were busy working and didn't really know if anyplace in particular was hiring. As Leonard was leaving his exam room (repeatedly apologizing to the doctor) Bailey gave up his search and rejoined him and Bertie. An MP at the door told them that there would be a truck leaving for the train station soon and they could go home until they got their orders.

“Are you taking the train back to Bunnyburrow, Bertie?”

“Yes. I promised my folks that I would be home this evening or tomorrow, depending on the train schedule.”

“If I gave you a letter, could you possibly run it out to the farm for me? I really need to apologize to my Mum and Dad for running out on them like I did.” He felt like a bit of a coward for not telling them face to face what he had planned to do. He just couldn't take seeing his mother break down, or the look on his father's face, knowing that this time he might not get his son back, as he had Virgil.

“You give it to me, and I'll see they get it.”

Bailey borrowed a clip board and pen from the front desk.

Dear Mom and Dad,  
I'm sorry that I ran off like I did. This war has gotten too big, and it isn't going to end soon. I don't even want to imagine what would happen to the family if the Axis made it across the channel and I didn't do something. I've found a place to stay here near the training camp. I'll write again as soon as I'm settled.  
I know that by now you'll be asking questions down at the Home Guard office in town. Don't worry. I'll be okay. I am a Hopps after all.  
Tell the family I love them, and that I'm doing this to keep them safe.  
Your loving son,  
Bailey

He folded the page tightly and gave it to the gopher.

“When the call comes up, we'll meet you here.”

“Count on it.” Bertie shook paws with his new friends and went out to find the mentioned truck.

“Well, I suppose we should go into town and see if we can't find a telephone to call my Uncle.” Leonard said.

The pair walked out of the main gate, after showing the guard their papers. A number of males dressed in uniforms were going out for an evening in the pubs scattered in the neighborhood nearby. A few were loudly talking about how females just loved a mammal in uniform, and sometimes even more so out of it. They laughed at the crude joke. Bailey and Len just looked at each other and shook their heads. These had to be townies or big city males. Bailey had always been taught that he represented his family when he was out and about, and he had better darned well remember that. He knew that if he had behaved like those soldiers, his father would have had him out in the wood barn and blistered him below the tail. At sixteen, he still wasn't too old to have manners beaten into him.

It was a simple matter to find a payphone in a small pub just a block away from the camp. It was already crowded, despite it only being three in the afternoon. Len had to shout slightly to be heard above the din of soldiers singing and the clinking of pint mugs. He hung up the receiver and they both went back out onto the street.

“My uncle is still out at work in the lumber yard.” The young male pulled his pack of gnaw sticks from his breast pocket and again offered one to Bailey. “My aunt said she would send somebody over in the small truck to get us.” 

As they leaned on a convenient railing, they chewed at their sticks and listened to the sounds of merriment coming from the pub. There was a sudden crash, and two males in uniform were ushered out by the rather large ox who had been tending the bar. The goat and pig had been arm wrestling on what had looked like a table full of empty mugs. The crash had most likely been the destruction of the glassware. The pair stumbled off together laughing and moved on down to the next pub on that side of the street.

“Promise me that if I ever get that stupid drunk you'll jab me with the longest, sharpest quill you've got?” Bailey stared after the inebriated duo.

“I don't see it happening, mate, but don't worry. I don't drink much myself, so I think we can keep an eye on each other.” Len shook his head and followed the buck's gaze. “I think that's a part of the army experience that I'd just as soon take a pass on.”

Very shortly, a small truck (relative to the army transport they had been in) pulled up to the curb. A short, young female porcupine in thick glasses was propped up on a pile of large books, and was operating the pedals which had blocks strapped to them. She looked at Bailey curiously.

“Hi, Lenny. Who's your friend with the big ears?”

“Now, Gemma, you know that isn't a polite thing to say. You been spending too much time in the bush with the brothers again?” Leonard opened the door and waved his companion in.

Gemma was perhaps all of three feet tall, with fur that varied in shades of black and grey. Her spines, those not covered by her work shirt and coveralls anyway, were black with white tips. She wore thick glasses, and still seemed to peer as if things were not quite in focus. 

The girl grinned. “Maybe, Lenny. Mama says I need to spend more time learning to be a lady, but Pop has been short pawed, what with most of the males going into the service. I've been spending half my time out in the bush lots and the other half trying to keep the paperwork straight in the office.” She looked at Bailey, giving him her right paw. “Since Lenny is too busy telling me off... Gemma Crowly.”

Bailey took her paw and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze, feeling the callouses of a mammal used to hard work with tools. “Bailey Hopps.” 

Gemma gave him a wide grin. “Nice grip there. You spend much time with an ax or a saw? Pop really could use an extra paw around the place for a while.” Suddenly she wasn't peering quite so much. It seemed that a good pawshake had solidified her opinion of him, and now her eyes were clear behind the lenses of her glasses.

Leonard slammed the door shut and put Bailey's bundle down at his feet, checking first to make sure the floor was relatively free of mud and wood chips. “Looks like you found that job, mate. She might only be fourteen, but Gemma here has been running the business behind her father for a while now. The school just couldn't keep up with her, and then the war started.”

Gemma checked the gear lever next to her left knee, then honked the horn twice and stuck her right arm out of the window. She let out the clutch and put pressure on the gas pedal while cranking hard on the wheel. The truck lurched into the street, and she drove out past the guard house of the army camp. The road got rough, and still she managed the bouncing vehicle with skill. All the while she kept up an animated patter of conversation with her passengers. She inquired about her uncle and aunt in Bunnyburrow, and what kind of operation the Hopps family ran.

At last she slowed and, again reaching out of her window, signaled a left turn onto a lane under a sign that read “Swinedon Lumber”. She bypassed the office building and a couple of large work areas, and pulled up in front of a midsize wood house on a stone foundation. She let the clutch out one last time and the engine chugged to a stop. They all piled out of the cab and the males followed her up the steps, once Bailey had again shouldered his belongings. She swung the door open and, carefully wiping her feet, and then taking her boots off for good measure, entered the front hallway.

“Mama, I'm back. Lenny brought a friend with him.”

An older version of Gemma came from the back of the house. She had obviously been in the kitchen. She was dusting flour off of her hands with the bottom of her apron. She too, wore glasses, though the lenses were not as thick as her daughter's. She peered at Bailey for a mere moment before extending a paw. Her face was lit with a brilliant smile.

“A pleasure to have you here, young male. I'm Leonard's aunt Mildred. What would your name be?”

“Bailey, ma'am. Bailey Hopps.”

“It's Mildred, dear. Though it is nice to see some manners for a change. Those army males in town are deplorable. I worry every time I have to send young Gemma in for something.” She took the paw that Bailey had given her in return and pulled him into a warm hug. “If our Leonard took a liking to you, I'm sure you'll be just fine here with us for what time you have.”

“Gemma's already offered him some work, Aunt Mildred.” Len stepped forward and hugged his aunt tightly. “He was hoping you wouldn't mind boarding him for a while, until our orders to report in come through. I guess you already had that in mind.”

“You wouldn't have brought him with you otherwise. The Crowly family has never turned a good mammal away, and we aren't going to start now. Gemma, you just show the nice bunny up to your brother James' room. Leonard, you'll be in Bill's room at the back. We put your trunk in there when it came in a couple days ago.” With that settled, the female turned and went back to the kitchen. “When you're done with that, Gemma, go out to the yard and find your father. Supper will be ready in less than half an hour!”, she shouted from down the hall.

The three went up a narrow set of stairs and Gemma guided Bailey to the left and a door at the end of the hall. She opened the door a bit wider and he put his bundle of blankets down on the bed. The room was not terribly large, with space for a bed against one wall, and a bureau next to the window with a wash basin and pitcher on it's top. There was a small mirror on the door. The blackout shade had been pushed aside and the window opened to allow a breeze to flow through to the hall. At night, a transom window above the door would allow a cross breeze while still letting the door be closed for privacy.

“My room is just on the other side of that wall.”, Gemma said, pointing at the bed. “You need anything at all, you just knock twice.” She winked at Bailey from behind her lenses.

Bailey blushed to the tips of his ears.

Leonard cleared his throat from the doorway. “Don't let her get to you, friend. She's been a flirt since she turned twelve and discovered that males don't have cooties.” He stared at his young cousin. “Now, don't you pester the good male to death. Your mother will rap you sharp with that switch of hers!”

“Oh, Lenny, I'm just teasing a little. Besides, he's cute. And for your information, I gnawed that switch to a nubbin years ago.” She scampered past Len, who playfully swatted her just above her tail. With a giggle, she was off down the stairs and putting her boots back on.

Mildred introduced Bailey to her husband, Sherman, when he came in the back door for supper. He was tall, for his species, and had hard muscles that made his clothing look rather tight. When the bunny offered his paw, he took it and squeezed, hard. Bailey just squeezed with an equal pressure and a smile on his muzzle.

“Yup, he'll do.” He looked to his wife. “You know, with the lads moved out, it would be nice to keep this one. Respectful, polite and a grip like iron.” He pulled his fingers apart in exaggerated slowness. 

Gemma, who was washing up at the sink grinned at her father. “Told ya so, Pop. Too bad the army already has their claim on him.”

Bailey was shown to a seat at the table. Leonard made a bit of a show of taking the seat next to him, glancing at his cousin. She pretended to pout for a moment, but then that irrepressible smile returned. Mildred brought a small bowl of steamed broccoli to the table and sat down on Bailey's left.

“The lad gave me some greens and turnips he had brought with him. They will be a nice addition to the supper table tomorrow night.” Mildred dumped a bit more rice on his plate when he was about to pass the dish on. “Now you eat up. Sherman is going to work you hard tomorrow. You'll need all the fuel you can get. Besides, once the army gets hold of you, heaven knows when you'll see another decent meal.”

Bailey reassured her that he and Leonard would be fed more than adequately when they reported to the base. After all, the army was buying up Hopps family produce almost as fast as it could be pulled from the soil. They were getting only the best.

Sherman had replied that only the senior officers would be likely to get anything fresh. Back in his father's day, during the Great War, lowly infantry were lucky if they got tinned food. Everything else, he'd been told repeatedly, was dried and had the taste of wood chips. Nutritionally adequate, but absolutely no flavor.

There was some discussion about the economy of the war, while Bailey and Gemma were clearing the table. (It was habit for the bunny to help as soon as everyone was finished eating back in the warren. Mildred had mildly protested, but sat down when he insisted.) The Crowly's had been supplying materials to the war effort, and been getting reasonable compensation, slightly above what market value had been before the war. The Hopps farm had been in a similar position for over a year. The raise in prices was offset by the difficulty of increased production with fewer paws. The regulations were quite strict as well, making the job more difficult.

Gemma, who was doing a lot of the book keeping, said that there were rumors of price gouging by some of the less scrupulous of the competition, and full price being demanded for inferior quality. She said this with a deep scowl on her face. For a moment she looked like a female twice her age. Her thick glasses gave her the appearance of a school teacher disapproving of a young animal's behavior. Swinedon Lumber would never stoop so low, she vowed. Her father looked at her with an air of bemused fondness.

“She sometimes forgets that she doesn't own the company... yet.”

The family and their guest listened to the wireless for a while, and Gemma insisted that Bailey show her what kind of dance steps were popular in Bunnyburrow. A lot of the ones she knew were imports from the city of Zootopia, or had been taught to her by her parents. Bailey had obliged by teaching her a box step waltz that was peculiar to bunnies, and some of the faster step dances, though he insisted he was no match for his older brother Virgil or brother-in-law Edward Sward.

As it was getting late, the blackout shades were checked and everyone retired to their rooms. Bailey lay awake long into the night despite his exhaustion, having only had that nap on the train. The sheer enormity of what he had done was starting to hit him again. Now though, he had added images in his waking nightmares. Mildred and Gemma were being leered at by slavering predators as they were stripped and their quills forcibly yanked from their backs. The spines were being used to make nibs for pens, as Len and Sherman were forced to make wooden grips from what had been their own supply of wood, and being lashed with real leather whips if they didn't perform as expected.

At some point, the young male finally dropped into a restless sleep. He was awakened by somebody shaking him lightly and whispering his name. He rolled over and realized he must have been hitting the wall in his sleep. Gemma was wrapped in a flannel robe and was peering down at him, all tangled in his blanket.

“Bailey, are you alright. I heard you thumping on the wall, and you kept muttering names. Who are Belle and Dawn?”

It took a moment for Bailey to remember where he was and who was resting a paw on his arm. “I'm sorry I woke you, Gemma. I... heard some things I probably shouldn't have a couple days ago. Belle is my little sister and Dawn is my sister Judy's adopted daughter.” Somehow, the nightmares spilled out of him. 

The young female sat on the edge of the narrow single bed and just listened. She reached and held his paw when he explained Dawn's circumstances before coming into the Hopps clan, and her fear as both of her new parents were flying. With a comforting noise, she brushed the fur back on his forehead, and told him to go back to sleep, that he was doing what was needed to keep his nightmares from becoming reality. In his feverish exhaustion, he did go back to sleep. He took her belief in his actions with him, and had no further nightmares.

Rather than go back to her own room, Gemma knocked lightly on her cousin's door. Fortunately, Leonard was a light sleeper. In short order, she told him about Bailey's fears and nightmares. She was worried that he might get hurt trying too hard when training started. Len promised he would keep a close eye on his friend. He'd known that the young female had taken a liking to the bunny. Somehow, he had an ability to make animals like and care about him. It was a reflection of his own warmth and sincerity. It was a Hopps family trait, from the early colonial days of Bunnyburrow to the present.

Despite the blackout shade, Bailey was up with the dawn. Generations of farming will breed that into an animal. Apparently his hosts were no strangers to early morning, as, on getting out of the bed, he found the pitcher on the dresser had been recently filled with warm water so that he could wash up. He did just that, and then brushed out his fur. He took the basin and pitcher down the stairs with him, and into the kitchen, where Mildred was just putting the finishing touches on breakfast.

“Good morning, young male. Just dump that basin into the barrel by the door back there, and come sit.” He did as he was told and soon enough he was joined by the rest of the Crowly family. Gemma was actually wearing a skirt that came down just below her knees that morning, and a white blouse with short sleeves. She would be working in the front office, now that there was an extra set of paws to help out in the wood lots. The way she was fussing with the skirt, she didn't seem too happy about the change.

After a very filling breakfast of oatmeal with a smattering of blueberries, Sherman led Bailey out to where the crew that would be going out into the wood lots met. They seemed a rather dour group, mostly older males that had not been acceptable for military purposes, but still able bodied. Fortunately, most seemed to be experienced with forestry. Among them were a few of the “land girls”, young females between sixteen and twenty-two that had taken up as lumber-jills when the workforce had been halved by the war effort. The males seemed to be rather condescending to them. In Bailey's experience from the farm, he knew that it was quite probable that they might well be as good at the job or better than some of the grumblers.

It was well into the day when Gemma pulled up in the same small truck that she had driven to Swinedon the day before. She was bringing the crew a lunch with thermoses of hot tea. The workers were putting down their tools and wandering over to the truck as Bailey was lopping branches from a felled tree. He looked up when Gemma called to him and waved, a basket in her left paw.

As she was walking toward him, there was a rustle in the loose debris, and an adder started to quickly slither from its hiding space. Gemma only saw it as it was coiling to strike at her foot. Suddenly, Bailey was staring into the eye of the serpent, or rather, at its neck. Focusing his sight on it, he took a deep breath and raised his hatchet. As he flung the tool, he let the breath out, almost as if blowing it where he wanted it. The sharp blade thudded into the ground, severing the reptiles head from its body. It was all over before anyone other than the bunny and the young porcupine could register what had happened.

Sherman ran to his daughters side, prepared to beat the buck to death for almost killing her. As he approached, she pointed at her feet, and he saw the black snake. He dropped to his knees.

“How?”

“I saw her in danger. I just... did it. I've been throwing axes and hatchets since I could hold one. It's a practice we have in my family. My dad and uncles taught me. I'll teach my kids. I never realized just how important it would be.” Bailey was still looking at the hatchet buried in the soil.

Supper that night was rather awkward. Gemma kept giving him looks, and little sighs would escape her lips. Leonard, who had been told the tale repeatedly, with so many embellishments that Bailey had needed to correct her several times, just shrugged.

“She'll get over it, son.” Mildred had told him while they were making tea. “It's just a mild case of hero worship. She misses her older brothers, since they moved out of the house. You're the first unrelated male close to her own age she's spent time with since leaving school.”

“It's just embarrassing.”

“You did what you knew needed to be done. That's why you enlisted. You will be doing things that are hard, dangerous and... not pleasant. It says a lot about how you were raised and who you are.” She turned him to look into his eyes, having to crane her neck a bit. “It's all well and good that you aren't a bragger. Just know that doing what you have to do as well as you can is important.”

That night, while he slept, Bailey again dreamed of his loved ones in danger. This time though, he had a weapon in his hand. Every axis predator that made a move against the intended victims was coolly and cleanly dispatched. He mourned the death of a fellow animal, but celebrated the lives that would not be taken by mammals turned into monsters.

XX

With a slow, steady exhale, Pop-pop brought his arm forward. At just the right point in its arc, he released the sharp hatchet. It tumbled once in the air and embedded itself with a very satisfactory thump. Directly in the center, where the doe had put her ax head. He watched with deeply focused vision for a moment.

He walked to the log face and tugged the tool from the wood. “Another snake dead.”

From behind him he heard a soft clapping. The young doe from earlier had come out to retrieve her hat, which she had left behind when going in for tea. “Great throw, Pop-pop. It's easy to see why Dad always compares his throws to yours.”

“You are a good throw yourself there, young lady. It's like my father told me, hard work and clear thinking are everything. You never know when you will need the skill and the calm mind to use it.” Once again he saw the adder from his younger days, poised to strike at a young female. “Remember that, and you will do well in life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing along casually, and forgot that this story is set in a universe where the “people” are using base eight math. (Like most animated figures, they have eight digits on their paws, for the most part.) This would mean the the numbering sequence goes like this: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7. From there you go straight to: 10, 11, 12, 13, 15, 15, 16, 17 and 20. Don't worry, it's just like base ten... if you're missing two fingers. (See “New Math” by Tom Leher on YouTube)
> 
> I've made a few blunders, referring to the age of eight-teen, and the like, while still mentioning octades, in place of decades. In future, I will try to remember to write in base eight. (Just wait until we get into military time in that base. You think I'm confusing things NOW!)
> 
> Bailey's ability with an ax and/or hatchet comes from EscherVox “Heart of the Dream.” It's an excellent story. And maybe we can convince Selaxes to repost his “Sounds of the Heart”.


End file.
